


darning

by 23notecanon (reincarnivore)



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Affection, M/M, Sewing, lil bit of blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:53:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22165933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reincarnivore/pseuds/23notecanon
Summary: happy 1/7~prompt was 'sewing holes in stupid jackets.'
Relationships: Saïx/Xemnas (Kingdom Hearts)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 35





	darning

There’s probably lots of other, more important things he could be doing with his time, but Saix secretly relishes in quiet moments where he’s free to take part in a mundane but required tasks, alone. It’s not as if sewing tears in their very important black jackets isn’t important, but it’s something that could be left to the dusks or otherwise. However, this was no ordinary organization lackey's jacket. This, is _Xemnas’_ jacket. As much as some others might deal with lopsided stitching where a shadow’s claws tore through, Saix finds himself unable to accept anything less than as perfect as he can manage. Even as his superior hands him the delicately folded garment, and he speaks, “Send this to the dusks, I’ve torn the inside armpit,” Saix keeps it to himself instead, eyeing Xemnas as he walks out his door, entrancingly shirtless.

‘Torn the armpit’, he says, Saix laments to himself a barely mumbled scoff as he plies his fingers through the several inches of hole. It’s been like this for some time, he thinks, but slowly worked through larger and larger until a likely breeze creeped in across Xemnas’ chest. It’s a shame these coats find themselves tedious to replace and more apt to repair, because as Saix inspects it more thoroughly, there are _many_ places that could use a stitch or two, if Xemnas doesn’t hope to leave it to his underlings shortly after he returns it the first time. He doesn’t _need_ more excuses for Xemnas to visit him, though Saix finds himself relishing in the interaction he’s given since growing apart from the rest of his ‘friends’. He’s not meaning to find himself so attached. But he’s been diligently darning this jacket for a while now.

So much so, that in his focus, Saix doesn’t look up when the door, very quietly, shifts open, or when the occupant of the outside strides soundlessly towards him. His back is facing the door as he sits in an armchair he’d placed in his room- but Xemnas has a tell in close proximity, a void in the air pressure that sucks the existence from the room. Playing it cool, Saix looks over his shoulder to him, still shirtless, since he did not often wear much other than his jacket. A slow, methodical blink, where they make eye contact until Xemnas’ amber gaze drifts downwards to the jacket still in Saix’s grip, a half-threaded stitch between his ungloved fingers.

“That’s not giving it to the dusks.”

A pause of thought, “The dusks often provide lackluster work. In order to keep you clothed more often than not, I thought I’d do it myself to save us both the trouble.”

“I did not take you for a seamstress," Xemnas rumbles, _nearly_ like he was telling a joke. He _tries_ , Saix finds, despite all his talk about emptiness.

There's a slow tilt of his head, back and forth, and there’s no point in waiting for him to leave, Saix can finish this while they talk, “I’m not a seamstress, that would involve making entire garments. Knowing a few choice stitches to repair holes is a different sort of skill.”

Xemnas reaches down to pull up one of the loose sleeves, and to where some of the cuff hem had begun to come loose- but it has been, of course, repaired. “Ah, I see. Your delay comes from diligence, or perfection.”

Nodding to that, it’s hard not to register Saix might be embarrassed if not for the vacancy in his chest. “Why have you requiring multiple repairs later when I can just fix it all, now.”

“That is very wise of you. I hate to complain, but since it is the only jacket I own…” Xemnas hums, eyeing down to his own bare chest. He shows no sign of being cold, despite the generally cool temperature the castle lives at.

“Do you have somewhere you need to be with it?” Since corridor travel is off-limits without protection, at least for the rest of them. Without his jacket, Xemnas is, presumably, castle-bound, which is more inconvenient than being cold.

“No, not anywhere specifically or at the moment. It is just the thought of being stuck, I suppose.”

“I’ve fixed the hole in the armpit, so I could give it back now,” and since he’s done with another small tear near the flowing bottom, Saix offers it back with a half-lidded gaze.

“Were there more things you saw wrong with it?”

“A few more, yes, but nothing dire.”

With a dismissive palm of his hand, Xemnas pushes it back into Saix’s lap, “No, continue. You are correct. Why not deal with it now than hold it for later? I have nowhere truly to go.”

“Very well,” and Saix expects that to be the end of it, feeling around for the next weak seam he might deal with, but Xemnas does not leave, so once again he looks up to the standing man. Another slow blink as he waits for him to speak.

Xemnas might think it would be fun to watch Saix's face barely flinch when the silence lingers and he stares at him so flatly. “You should show me how to do this myself.”

Saix feels a bit like his ‘heart’ sinks to that, because he’s been ‘enjoying’ himself working alone and on something, for someone he might feel he holds dear, or more dearly than anything else at the moment. “Very well,” he adjusts his posture and pulls the jacket forwards so that Xemnas can more easily see as he works. “Have you ever worked with thread before?”

“Only to pull stitches in skin,” he rests his arm on the back of the chair Saix sits in, leaning over him in attention to how his hands move.

“It is somewhat like that,” he pulls the two halves of a torn seam together, deftly pulling the needle through and the thread around. “Loop it through itself, like this.”

“That seems very simple.”

“It is.”

“So then, how do the dusks do this so poorly?” Xemnas sighs, eyes lidding momentarily as he shakes his head in disappointment.

"Despite what I've said,” Saix hums, “if you do not pull it tight enough, or space it poorly, or you let your lines wander...” As an example, Saix knows, he pulls up the tail of his own jacket, and offers Xemnas a look at a tear he’d had the dusks repair a week or so ago. It holds perfectly fine, but under closer inspection, it is aesthetically displeasing.

“Hmnn,” he nods, looking between what Saix has done and what the dusks have done, “Indeed, I see where they falter now. I might appreciate that you have put in your effort for my sake. Here, let me see if I can manage to replicate what you have done.”

Halfway between a repair, Saix is slightly hesitant but offers the jacket and threaded needle. It is not a highly visible part of his jacket, so if Xemnas does muff the stitching, it’s no real issue. Also, nothing Saix can’t re-repair later. Xemnas props it up in his arms to avoid the materials pull from gravity, but being standing does have him at a disadvantage. He uses his hands often and in more minute detail than this, so Xemnas isn’t worried, but it gets him a bit, _cocky_. After a few too-loose stitches, Xemnas raises an eyebrow at his inability to manage what is apparently ‘simple’, and without proper thought, he attempts to pull the jacket further into his lap- but he forgets a very important step. Needles, are sharp.

Now, Xemnas is not one to flinch when he’s hurt, but Saix’s eyes snap down when his movement sharply ceases, and as he flips the palm facing to stare at the apparent injury at the tip of an index finger. They wait in cold silence a moment for blood to well from it. “Oh," Xemnas speaks flatly.

Saix's nose wrinkles as he looks to deny himself looking amused, “...I didn’t think I needed to warn you that the needle was sharp, but, belated now. The needle is sharp. Do not lose track of where you’ve put it.”

“Duly noted,” Xemnas raises an eyebrow at Saix's best attempts to pretend he wasn't mocking him, the barest smile growing on his lips. “Does this mean you have donated no blood to my jacket?”

Looking down at his hand, Saix wiggles ungloved fingers, “Not _your_ jacket, no. But stabbing yourself with the needle does come with the territory, at any skill level, occasionally.”

“Mistakes do often become made,” Xemnas nods, handing Saix the jacket back, as his best attempt pales in comparison to what was done previously. “I will have to practice more before I work on my own clothes.”

“I can find you things to practice with if you’re being serious.” Saix sets to working again, hoping Xemnas won’t find himself feigning offense when he pulls out the few failed stitched he’d managed. 

“I am somewhat serious. I should do you the same honour you do me, hmn,” and a gentle hand reaches down, sliding fingers into the hood of Saix’s jacket. His fingers wander downwards until he’s sneaking beneath the hem of the neck, cold digits pressed to Saix’s flushed skin.

Raising an eyebrow, “Do me the same honour?” His eyes wander to Xemnas’ grip, “you mean… My jacket?” It’s hard not to sneer at the thought.

“Would I do better than a dusk?”

“... Questionable at this point.” Saix tries not to flinch when Xemnas’ fingers wrap around the errant strands of blue that hang behind his ears, but he fails not to lean into his touch when he scratches a fingernail into his hairline. Softly, contentedly, “I’m almost done with your jacket.”

He’s not about to let Saix off that easily, however, and nearly wrings the entirety of his hand into Saix’s hair to pet him for a job well done. “I would tell you I appreciate it, however...”

“I know well what you appreciate,” Saix hums, letting himself be dealt any manner of affection, “Though I did not do this for you for _this_ sake.”

“I am aware, but there is no reason not to give you a touch of what you desire. Your pale light leads you where it might, and I will let it.”

With his eyes lidded, Saix sighs when he feels a finger brush across his cheek- but then blinks open when it feels just a touch wet. It’s hard to look at his own face, but he instinctively tries before raising a hand to rub where Xemnas’ just had- ah, that’s right. Blood. “What a thoughtful present, thank you,” he speaks flatly, eyes slowly rising to Xemnas' as he returns the expression.

“Perhaps you look more appealing with blood on your face.”

“More than this, I hope,” and he turns his head down to finish the last of his stitching.


End file.
